The Simple Hunt
by CeeCee1224
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple hunt.


**Greetings! This is my first try at a fanfic so please show mercy. I've been reading fanfic for a while and I thought I'd give it a try. Thanks and I hope you enjoy.**

'Son of a bitch,' thought Dean. How in the hell did he always end up in these situations? What in the big cosmic scheme of things made him the whumping boy of the century?

It should have been an easy hunt, a walk in the park, a stroll on the beach, whatever. It was a flipping black dog in the woods near Seattle. Dean could take a black dog in his sleep. Hell, he had taken on more than a few at a time on his own and lived to tell the tale. He even had wonderboy Sammy along to help out. It should have been an easy hunt. Key words, SHOULD HAVE BEEN!

But noooo! Here he was, lying on the ground staring up at a sobbing Sammy with slices across his chest from top to bottom. Boy did they hurt like a son of a bitch. Not to mention the broken ribs to go with those lovely slices. He'd guessed there were at least 4 broken ribs based on the pain. He had PLENTY of experience with broken ribs too so it was easy for him to make that call. They rattled from within each time he tried to take a breath. He knew that couldn't have sounded good. Then there was the copper taste in his mouth. "Probably punctured a freakin' lung!" he thought.

"Stay with me Dean," cried Sammy.

'I'm not going anywhere,' thought Dean. But damn, how do I end up like this so friggin' often. I mean come on now! He had survived Azazel's torture which was not an easy feat. He had saved his brother's ass on more than one occasion, even when he himself had been stabbed, shot, mauled, tied up, drugged, and even impaled. He managed to cheat a few Reapers. True, the first time was because of his Dad, but still, he had cheated a few Reapers on his own. He had managed to continue battling demons after his time spent in hell.

Sure, Cas had dragged him from perdition but HE was the one who continued to battle evil despite all he had been through. Come on! He waged war on both demon and angels alike. He had even been forced on more than one occasion to battle his own flesh and blood just to prevent the apocalypse. He was Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire!

Yet, here he was, struggling to accomplish the simple task of breathing.

He was able to smooth talk or land pretty much any women he wanted. Sometimes he managed to land more than one at a time. He just had that something special that women couldn't resist. Bobby once said he could have "converted" a convent of nuns given five minutes and a tight pair of jeans if he had wanted. After all, he had managed to score an angel. How many normal, everyday "Joe's" out there could lay claim to that one? Hell, even his own brother couldn't claim that one.

Yet, here he was, the world beginning to fade to black on him.

"Come on Dean, breathe," whispered Sammy.

'Sammy, how do I keep ending up like this?' wondered Dean. This can't be happening. It was a simple hunt, SIMPLE! It shouldn't have happened like this. How did a stupid black dog get the drop on him?

He had been trained since before he could even remember. He had managed to avert the end of the friggin' world and yet he couldn't kill a stupid black dog. He could hustle pool like no other. He was sure, if given the opportunity, he could have hustled better than the hustler portrayed by Paul Newman.

Yet, darkness continued to encroach on him. Searing waves of agony continued to make their presence known.

Dean knew it wouldn't be long now and he feared what was to come. He knew Sammy was going to spend the next few days fretting over his condition. He'd probably spend the next few days in ICU, wavering between life and death, forced to breathe through a damn tube because his lungs were weak. He figured he'd probably survive but not without having to experience the dreaded chic flick moments. Sammy would be holding his hand, speaking soft words of encouragement to him, denying himself sleep just to stand watch.

Sammy.

His own brother had managed to escape hell to come back to him. His brother, the guy whose ass he easily kicked prior to going to hell himself and even after returning with all of his own issues and demons. Demons, no pun intended with that! Sammy, that scrawny wiry kid Dean himself had helped to train, had managed to rid himself of Lucifer and Dean couldn't even kill a damn black dog. WTF! How did he continue to end up like this?

Then, as if a bolt of lightening struck him, it finally dawned on him how he kept ending up like this. He had read about it on more than one occasion. Sammy had explained it to him in great depth despite his own protests of not wanting to believe it. He knew it in his heart. He understood why he was such a victim all of the time despite everything he was capable of. It was not his fault. It was not his destiny. It wasn't even his luck, despite what others may believe. Even if he had that damn rabbit's foot in his possession 24/7, he knew he would inevitably end up just like he was now, suffering.

He knew why.

Fangirls!


End file.
